


Dangerous Dance

by SasuNarufan13



Series: Demon Dance [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking of blood, Implied dub/noncon, IncubusDraco, M/M, Sequel to Dance with the Devil, Slash, VampireHarry, Violence, dark story, halloween fic, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasuNarufan13/pseuds/SasuNarufan13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after so much time spent as Draco's captive, Harry is not broken yet. This fact only encourages the incubus to find the one thing that could make the vampire break down. Question remains: in the end who will be the one suffering more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This time my Halloween oneshot is posted on time :D I'm proud of myself now ~  
> Anyway *clears throat* This is a sequel to Dance with the Devil and Deadly Dance (the latter being the first in the series). I would suggest reading those first if you haven't already, so that the whole setting doesn't come off as confusing.
> 
> PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS IN THE TAGS
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> So if you're still here after reading the warnings, I only have two things left to say: Happy Halloween and enjoy this oneshot!

_Dangerous dance_

Even while being immortal, time played an important role in his life. It was important to know the time, because it could prevent him from dying due to exposure to sunlight.

This was why it irritated him to no end that his sense of time had completely disappeared. Being locked up in the same room – with a distinct lack of windows – and experiencing bouts of unconsciousness in order to give his body time to heal, had a very negative effect on his inner clock. He could no longer tell whether it was day or night; he didn't even know which season it was.

How long ago was it that he had been tricked by that vengeful bastard? How long had he lived so far on his blood only? Blood which tasted like sweet apples, but burned like fire when he swallowed it. It simmered in his body, like stubborn embers which didn't want to extinguish long after the main fire had been put out.

His blood brought sweet relief after gruesome hours of having his limit – and sanity – tested.

And the son of a bitch knew of this; knew just how much it refreshed him every time. Every time the vampire thought he had reached his limit and his body was close to finally shutting down, the incubus would stop whatever sadistic game he played and would offer enough blood to give him the energy to heal. He had thought of refusing the blood; death would be preferable to spending the rest of eternity as the plaything of an incubus. Except it wasn't in his nature to give up. He would not give that incubus the satisfaction of breaking him. Many enemies before him had tried to break him and none had succeeded.

He would be damned if he let an incubus win.

He may be trapped for now, but he would escape. But before he escaped, he would make the bastard pay. The incubus would rue the day he had decided to take revenge.

All he needed was patience and time to gather his strength. If he attacked him now, the other would win their scuffle without much effort.

Yes, it would take some time, but Harry Potter would return to the vampire clan.

* * *

"It has been a while, Harry. Did you miss me?" Draco purred and seemingly materialized in the middle of the dark room.

Two torches – on either side of the closed door – flared to life with his arrival and bathed the room in a dim light, conjuring eerie shadows that danced on the walls. Big, dark red splotches covered both floor and walls; even the ceiling bore a few specks. The air was stagnant with the sickly smell of old blood, sweat and one particular other body fluid that induced both shame and rage in the permanent resident of the room whenever his attention was caught by it.

Silver grey eyes glowed hungrily when they took in the body spread out in front of him.

Only one piece of furniture filled the empty space: a single bed, containing what had to be the most uncomfortable mattress in the world. Bound on it with large shackles laid on display a lean, naked body; sinewy muscles marred by pink lines.

Forest green mixed with blood red glared at him; hatred burning deep within them. The hatred – fierce as it was – was not strong enough to hide overwhelming hunger dwelling deep within those gems, making the vampire bare his sharp fangs when his sensitive nose caught the divine smell of fresh blood.

"Oh my, it looks like someone is hungry," the incubus hummed and he treaded lightly over the stone floor. Were it not that Harry could sense and see him, he would never hear Draco approaching.

Slender fingers ghosted over sunken in cheeks, feeling the smooth skin, but had to withdraw quickly when white flashed like lightening.

A smirk unfolded on pale rose lips. "Naughty, naughty Harry," Draco breathed and the body underneath his hands seized up when his sharp nails dug in a recently healed cut.

"Did you miss me so much you could not wait to steal a taste?" he teased and brought his hand up, studying the tiny droplets of blood clinging to his skin. A pink tongue sneaked out and lapped at the blood; the fine sculpted face turned contemplatively.

"Not really my idea of a feast," he announced lightly and directed a leering gaze at the vampire's nether regions. "Then again, maybe I can be persuaded," he murmured and licked his lips.

Harry threw him a foul look. "Go to hell!' he spat.

Draco chuckled softly, deceivingly amused. "Ah, but _darling_ , I went to hell. You made sure I went there, remember?" he retorted with a silken voice.

"Should have stayed there," the bound vampire said snidely.

"And miss your lovely presence?" The blond shook his head and tsk'd – a sound that grated on Harry's nerves.

"Your parents must be so proud," Harry murmured with a hard smile. "Having a son obsessed with their mortal enemy – no wonder dear daddy doesn't want to pass on his title as leader. Who wants such a pathetic excuse of an incubus as their leader?"

His head snapped to the side from the force of the punch the seething blond had thrown.

A harsh laugh escaped his throat and he spit out some of his own blood. "Can't handle the truth, Malfoy?" he asked with a taunting smirk and turned his head to stare at the man in front of him. "It's true, though – I've heard your parents talk about you; they are wondering whether you've gone round the bend. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days, you'll wake up in one of these gorgeous rooms."

A bloody smile. Two madly glittering green gems.

"Want to make a bet on how long you'll last without breaking? From what I've heard, you guys snap after three weeks of no meals," Harry cooed.

Even the silver blade pressed against his stomach, burning the pale skin with a vicious hissing sound, couldn't stop his joyous laughter after seeing just how affected the incubus was by his words.

If Malfoy thought he had been close to breaking Harry, he was sorely mistaken. He hadn't even managed to chip away at his sanity – and now he knew which triggers unbalanced the blond, he would prepare his next attack carefully.

The best thing was that he didn't even have to lie – and Malfoy was clearly aware of this.

After this visit his body would be burned, bruised and bloody, but he didn't care about that. Physical wounds healed – mental ones festered and grew.

The captor would break before the captive – it was only a matter of time.

* * *

The incubus had changed his tactics it seemed. Since that time when Harry had turned the tables on the cocky blond, the man had been remarkably absent.

Granted, Malfoy didn't visit him every day – thanks to his broken sense of time, he never knew how much time was between each visit; only that it was too often for his liking.

Now, however, it had been a long time since he last saw the demon. Normally, this wouldn't bother him – except that his hunger was growing. It had started out as a hollow feeling in his stomach, his organs cramping as they waited for blood to pass through them. He had been able to ignore that feeling – it hadn't been the first time he had felt this way.

The hollow feeling slowly transformed into gnawing hunger, reminding him with every intake of stale air that he hadn't had blood in a very long time now.

At first, he diverted his attention from the ever growing hunger to healing his various cuts and burns. It took quite a bit of his energy, but by the time he stopped, his entire body was flawless once more. No mark was left; it was as if he never had been captured or tortured.

The healing took a great toll on him. what had started as a way to distract himself, had now become the reason of his hunger driving him mad.

After exerting himself with healing, he needed – now more than ever – blood. It didn't matter whose blood; by now he would even accept drinking from the incubus – something he had tried to avoid before. Only his desire to punish the vampire had made Malfoy agree to mostly giving him blood from an unknown person.

His fingers trembled with light spasms – that was the most he could do by now. His body had grown weak. Moving his head from side to side made him breathless; straining against the shackles made him black out.

Forget about gathering his strength and escape – he would be lucky if he didn't become comatose. He didn't think he would die from hunger – but the stories about hungry vampires weren't very reassuring. Either they fell into a coma – from which they never would wake up – or they were driven insane, raging around, attacking their own kin until they were put down by others.

Neither outcome appealed to Harry; he wanted to escape, not become comatose or insane from hunger.

Yet, it appeared that either one of those would be his fate.

Judging by the voices in his head – the hunger manifesting itself through them – screaming and crying for blood, he would become insane.

A bitter smile graced gnawed, chapped lips, crusted with his own old blood.

_If I'm lucky, I'll be able to drag the bastard with me to hell. Sorry, Tom, looks like my luck is running out._

Sunken in, glowing eyes – deep green completely devoured by ruby red – closed and weakened – yet tense – muscles finally relaxed.

It wouldn't be long anymore.

* * *

His light robe – the silk pleasant against his skin – trailed over the dark stones while his lungs breathed in the stale air, a hint of rust mixed through it.

It was quiet in this part; the guards had left this part a while ago. He had ordered it; it was infinitely easier to walk through these gloomy corridors alone than have to explain his purpose every twenty feet. Patience deserted him whenever he thought of the man he held captive. The one he sought to conquer, the one he wanted to witness breaking down completely.

It had gone beyond a burning wish for revenge; even he wasn't oblivious to his growing obsession with the thick headed vampire. He desired to know what went through that black haired head when his nails ripped through the hardened skin. He wanted to know what he felt when pure silver was driven perilously close to his heart. Did he ever feel fear, despair? Did he ever want to beg for a reprieve?

Harry Potter was an exasperating and annoying mystery; a glorious mystery that he wanted to solve.

However …

Nothing what he did or said, was enough to break the vampire's spirit. It didn't matter which weapon he inflicted on him; did not matter what he told him; did not matter how much energy he took during his own feeding time …

All the vampire did, was bear it and at times laugh at him.

Potter was a master in uncovering his uncertainties – that was proven by their last encounter.

Teeth clenched together.

He had lost control of himself; had punished the vampire again and again and all it got him in return was a mocking laugh and amused eyes. He had shamefully left the dungeon, on the verge of ordering one of the guards to get rid of the vampire, whose mocking laughter haunted him for days.

In the end, he had used his humiliation as a means to search for the ultimate punishment; the one that would finally tear down the walls around Potter, like giants who wanted to conquer castles.

Everyone had a breaking point, it only took time and effort to discover it. And oh, he had found it.

A sinister smile lurked at the corners of his mouth; it was perfect. After this, he would prove that he was the stronger one of the two.

To make his chance of succeeding even higher – he was certain this plan would be a success, but precautions never hurt – he had not visited Potter for eight months.

The last time he had given Potter a bit of blood was a year and one month ago. He doubted the vampire knew how much time he had spent at Draco's mercy so far – it had been three years since that faithful Halloween night.

In fact, today could be considered their anniversary and he chuckled when that thought crossed his mind.

The dark energy of Halloween was buzzing through his body and his teeth ached, ready to devour his victim.

Halloween was the perfect day to deliver his ultimate punishment. Draco had lost his life once on this particular night and he would make certain Potter experienced the same now.

Once he had succeeded in defeating the vampire, his father would have no choice but to admit his son's superiority when it came to defeating their enemies.

When Potter gave in, Draco would be the sixth incubus in their entire history to conquer and defeat a vampire.

Excitement brewing in the pit of his stomach, he halted right in front of a heavy, with silver adorned door, which was the only thing remaining between him and his prize.

His hand drifted down to the hilt of the knife strapped to his hip. Satisfied it was still present, he took a deep breath and steeled himself.

He could not afford to make a mistake now; going so long without even a drop of blood would push every vampire close to the brink of insanity. If he wasn't careful, he would find himself on the wrong side of those sharp teeth.

_But_ , he licked his lips hungrily, _the challenge will make the victory taste even sweeter_.

Shadows grew out from the walls – like a child reaching out to its mother – and embraced him lovingly, transporting him inside the room; the darkness covering his body like a coat of cool water. He was gently placed on the floor, a soft giggling surrounding him for just a few seconds.

The shadows gave him one last caress and then retreated to the walls, fusing with the weathered stone.

"Honey, I'm home," he said cheerily and with one lazy wave, the torches on the walls sprung to life.

The vampire didn't stir or open his eyes; his fingers and toes didn't even twitch.

Interest piqued, Draco approached him slowly, studying the effects that a year without intake of blood had had on the vampire. The first noticeable signs were his sunken in eyes; his lips – which had been a healthy red before – were now nearly white, as if all blood had been removed from them. His sharp fangs, usually hidden behind his lips, were resting on his bloodless lower lip, gleaming in the light of the torches. All vampires were naturally pale, but every speck of colour seemed to have left Potter – his black hair was a sharp contrast to his snow white skin.

He had ceased breathing, but Draco wasn't bothered with that – a lack of oxygen wouldn't kill a vampire.

He _looked_ dead – but Draco had consulted various old documents about vampires and they all had the same remark: vampires could live fifteen months without blood. Draco had pushed it close, but the vampire was still alive.

In what kind of state, however, remained to be seen.

"It's time to wake up, darling," he murmured with a smirk and came to a halt next to the bed. "Don't want you wasting precious night time and all that."

He reached out with his hand; intend on touching Potter's cheek. His hand was hovering a few inches above the cold, unblemished skin when he was faced with blood red eyes; the pupils as thin as a needle, resembling those of a cat.

"Finally awake?" Draco taunted. "The beauty sleep didn't work well, I see."

The only warning he received was a low, grumbling growl and then Potter's head surged upwards, teeth snapping close around the space where Draco's hand had been just a mere few seconds ago.

"So fiery," Draco smirked and waggled his finger in a scolding manner. "So naughty. Patience is a virtue, Potter."

"And you would know what virtue is?" Potter's sarcastic remark came out in a raspy voice, almost inaudible from the lack of use for eight months.

"Funny, Potter. I see solitude and being deprived of food hasn't robbed you from your sense of humour," Draco retorted happily.

"Get lost, Malfoy," Potter muttered exhausted, but his eyes remained fixated on the incubus.

"And leave my precious vampire to die?" The blond clucked his tongue. "What kind of person would that make me?"

"Someone who won't get ripped apart," Potter replied eerily calm. Something started to stir in the depths of his eyes.

Draco simply smiled and undid the buttons on his robes while his other hand occupied itself with leisurely caressing Potter's right thigh, feeling the subtle twitch of muscles underneath his fingertips.

"Do you know which day it is today?" the incubus asked nonchalantly, dropping his robes on the floor. Completely naked, save for the knife strapped to his hip, he remained standing next to the famished vampire.

"The day you finally fuck off?" Potter suggested idly.

"It's Halloween," Draco replied, ignoring the vampire's comment. He bent down to retrieve a small jar with a clear gel like substance in it. Placing it next to Potter's hip, he locked gazes with the vampire and smiled sharply.

"It has also been three years since you joined the family," he continued and dipped two fingers in the jar, coating them with the clear gel.

Potter bared his fangs and hissed, "What are you planning?"

"We need to celebrate our three year anniversary," Draco chuckled and climbed on the bed, settling himself between Potter's spread legs; his knees brushing against soft skin.

"So I searched for the perfect gift," he breathed and without giving the vampire any chance to brace himself, he shoved his two fingers inside Potter, making the latter arch his back in pain.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Potter roared and even in his weakened state, he started to struggle against the shackles, tossing his head back and forth.

"Just give in, Potter. We both know you'll end up enjoying it," Draco taunted him and curled his fingers upwards. His sharp eyes didn't miss the small shudder going through Potter's body, nor did the slowly rising smell of arousal escape his heightened sense of smell.

"Go to hell!" Potter snarled and surged forwards again, trying to bite the blond.

"I have been there; rather boring place," Draco informed him and while his fingers were busy with stretching Potter – the latter subtly bucking his hips with a frustrated grimace on his face; even the most apathetic being could not resist the seduction pheromones of an incubus – he freed the knife and held it loosely in his hand.

His fingers retreated and he shuffled closer to Potter, raising the knife in the air.

The dark haired man stared at him with a morbid curiosity. "You're going to kill me?" he asked blandly. His pupils were rapidly growing bigger and smaller, flickering like some sort of bizarre traffic light.

"Now why would I do that?" Draco hummed and shook his head. "How hungry are you?"

Potter's body – which had been twitching with desire, thanks to Draco's pheromones coursing through him – stilled completely and his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I bet you are really hungry now," Draco murmured with a sinister smirk tainting his mouth. "I can't have you remaining hungry now, hm?"

"Malfoy, what …"

"Because I'm such a _perfect lover_ , I looked up what kind of blood you leeches like the most," he continued and red eyes widened.

"Don't!"

Steeling himself, Draco brought the knife down and stabbed himself near the heart – right above the organ. With a soft hiss of pain, he roughly pulled the knife back; his blood wasted no time in seeping profusely out of the wound; each beat of his heart pushing more blood through the gaping hole.

He hunched forwards, making sure that his blood dripped on the vampire's heaving stomach. Despite the burning pain, he managed to smirk tauntingly. "Apparently you vampires really like to drink blood from the source. Accept my apologies for only offering you the blood of my wrist."

"Get away from me," Potter brought out and he seemed to be doing his best to not breathe in the thick smell of blood and to avoid looking at it, choosing instead to stare intensely at the ceiling.

"Aw, but _darling_ , don't be like that," Draco chuckled; his eyes regarding the trembling man underneath him with cruel amusement. "I'll even untie your hands so you can properly eat."

"No, wait, Malfoy, don't!"

Metal flashed in the weak torch light and was brought down with a blinding speed. At the same moment Potter's wrists were untied (the knife had been made of a special material that was capable of slashing through the shackles like it was butter), Draco entered him with a loud snarl, throwing the knife against the wall.

For a few seconds, they were both still; blood continued to pulse from his wound while Potter's inner muscles throbbed around him. Slowly Draco leant forwards, feeling legs clench around him. He dipped a finger in his blood and brought it to Potter's lips, smearing the sticky fluid across his lower lip. A quick tongue darted out and as soon as the taste of blood assaulted his taste buds, Potter snarled ferociously and lunged forwards. Slender arms wrapped around Draco, body pushing closer against his own, he felt lips touching the gaping wound on his chest and Draco hissed, hips snapping forwards, when a tongue swirled over the wound, pain flaring up again.

Then Potter started drinking from him and the world seemed to explode in heat and bright light.

So lost were both creatures in their own lust that neither one of them noticed a dark purple light settling around them, twisting and turning until it took on the form of a long, thin rope. The rope of light purred softly and slid around the trashing bodies, pushing them even closer to each other; snarls erupting loudly. A soft giggling bounced off the walls, though neither being seemed to hear it.

Their fates were now forever woven together. The last door to escaping from this moment slammed close.

* * *

In a dark room on the other side of the building, a single page drifted down to the floor when a soft gust of wind caressed the spine of the books. The page belonged to a book which gave detailed descriptions about a vampire and everything related to it. It was the book a certain incubus had been reading, before he decided to visit the vampire.

The incubus hadn't read everything, however. There was one page that had escaped his attention, being near to the back and hanging to the spine of the book by a single thread.

It turned out to be the most important page in the book.

_Vampires are capable of bonding themselves to other beings. Often they will pledge a vow with the being they intend to share their life with, but this vow can be broken at any time, as it is non-binding. There is, however, one bond that can be formed between a vampire and another being, which cannot be broken. This bond springs into existence once the vampire drinks the blood from the origin – in other words, blood near the heart. If a vampire drinks directly from the chest, close to the heart, then he or she will be bonded for eternity to his or her partner; this has also the consequence of the two Bonded Partners not being able to attack each other with the intent to kill._

_This is why experienced vampires warn their pupils about never drinking directly from the chest if they do not intend to bond for eternity._

_Not much is known about this bonding, as it very rarely happens, but rumours tell tales of vampires who bonded with beings from another species and whose body ended up adjusting to fit better with the new partner. Children resulting from this most unorthodox union – not a common occurrence - are the perfect mixture of both species and are therefore either despised or admired._

_Non vampire beings are thus warned to be very careful when they let a vampire drink their blood._


End file.
